


King Beds

by nohappinessfanfics



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 09:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15336708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nohappinessfanfics/pseuds/nohappinessfanfics
Summary: Fushimi is in the particular position to be able to compare the Red and Blue Kings' beds.





	King Beds

Ship: ReiSaru (Reisi Munakata/Fushimi Saruhiko), past MikoSaru (Mikoto Suoh/Fushimi Saruhiko)

Series: K

Rating: Mature/R/NC-17/NSFW

Words: 2,854

Warning: PWP (porn no plot). Smut. Language. Touches on some Side Red.

King Beds

Jeanette Diaz Michel

It was so different with him than it had been with Mikoto. The first couple of times that they had been together, Fushimi had noticed it so viscerally, but then he forgot. His time with Mikoto had been an afterthought. Every once in a while, though, some of it would come back. The small similarities…the differences.

Both times he’d come to accidentally wind up with them. Munakata’s had been more obvious, but sometimes he still wondered about Mikoto. Fushimi had been irritated, staring at his PDA, Yata’s voice in the background. Fushimi always felt a turmoil in him being there, being part of HOMRA in general. Fuck, everything about it felt wrong. But he couldn’t leave.

He didn’t feel the same about Mikoto and HOMRA like Yata did, and he wondered if the others saw right through him. Yata didn’t seem to, even though Fushimi wondered how he couldn’t see that his best friend was so obviously out of place there. He worried more that Kusanagi and Mikoto saw through him. He was an imposter inside their family. To a lesser extent he wondered if Totsuka or Anna noticed it, but he wasn’t worried about them.

Sometimes Fushimi caught Mikoto staring at him, and it was always when no one else was looking. The same thing with Kusanagi, but Kusanagi didn’t hide his looks, and Fushimi got the distinct feeling that Mikoto was doing just that. It unnerved him. Something about the Red King _unnerved_ him.

That day, Fushimi hadn’t been in the mood to hear Yata gush about HOMRA, and _their_ clan, and Mikoto. Simply saying that he had to leave, Fushimi got up and left. He walked out without another word, though he heard Kusanagi call after him, and he’d caught a quick glimpse of Yata’s startled and confused expression.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Fushimi made his way down the dark streets. All the other stores were closed now, and the only light came from streetlamps and the moon. Fushimi had been both glad and upset at being alone. It was better because he was out of _there_ , but when he was alone he began to think… And that lead him down the path of doubt.

Why did it feel so _wrong_ to be there? Why did it feel _off_ to use his Red Aura? So many fucking whys and not a single answer. Fushimi came into himself even more, becoming as small as possible as these thoughts swirled around in his head. He thought about his fear of Mikoto and, again, how it was possible that no one noticed. He figured if Kusanagi had, he would have spoken to Fushimi alone about it. Same with Tatara. Yata was just blind when it came to Mikoto.

Then there was Mikoto himself. Thinking of him sent Fushimi’s stomach doing weird flips, and his muscles tensed. If possible, Fushimi wanted to avoid him at all costs. The burning sensation came to his mind then when he’d taken Mikoto’s hand in order to become a clansman. Fushimi clenched his fist in his pocket, shaking.

“Saruhiko…”” The words came out in a lazy drawl.

Fushimi stopped in his tracks, and his whole body tensed up. He turned around to see the Red King walking towards him. Fushimi’s heart jumped. There was a soft glow from the tip of Mikoto’s cigarette, and for some reason that made his golden eyes shine like a wild animal. He was trembling, but Fushimi didn’t realize it.

“What is it, Mikoto-san?” Somehow the annoyed tone still managed to seep into his voice and expression.

Mikoto arched a single eyebrow slightly, and he let out a small smirk, but it was quickly gone. “Maybe you should wait for Yata to go home.”

At first Fushimi was confused, then he frowned. “I’m fine going home by myself.”

“Mmm…” Mikoto made a soft noise and shrugged but otherwise said nothing else.

“Was that it?”

Mikoto stared at him, seeing his tense shoulders and clenched fists in his pockets. After a brief moment, he turned to look back, and Fushimi mused if he was looking to see if Yata or one of the others was coming. The Red King turned to face him again, and before Fushimi could say something else, he gently took the cigarette from his lips and held it carefully between two fingers. Then Mikoto took a few steps closer closing the distance between them.

Fushimi felt himself tense more, but before he could open his mouth to say something, Mikoto leaned in, and Fushimi felt his lips on him. His eyes widened, and his heart jumped. The moment was brief, though at the time it seemed longer than it actually was, before Mikoto pulled away. Fushimi stared at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, heart hammering.

Mikoto smirked softly. Before Fushimi could demand an explanation, Yata appeared before them, and the Red King turned around and left without a word. Yata watched him go, confused, and then turned his attention back to Fushimi.

“What happened, Saru? You okay?”

Nodding wordlessly, Fushimi turned around and walked away. Yata followed him and began to talk again about whatever it had been that he had been talking about inside the bar, but Fushimi still wasn’t paying attention. He couldn’t help but think about the kiss. His cheeks still burning. Mikoto’s lips had been soft and warm, and the kiss had been… _nice_.

That’s how it had all started. Fushimi had been even more confused, but that kiss had been like a solace. Maybe he belonged in HOMRA after all. He was still apprehensive around Mikoto, still tensing and trembling if he saw how he could get in the streets. And for awhile it seemed like the kiss had been nothing, but then the looks continued. When no one was looking Mikoto would softly touch Fushimi’s elbow or lower back for a brief moment.

When Mikoto kissed him the second time, Fushimi kissed back. For awhile that’s all it was, but it was enough. Fushimi felt calm in those kisses. The taste of nicotine he could do without, but for the most part he ignored that. They never did this in front of anyone, but Kusanagi figured it out eventually.

“Does Yata know?” He’d asked Fushimi gently when he’d managed to pull him aside when Yata went to the restroom.

“No. It’s not like I’m sleeping with him.” Fushimi retorted.

Kusanagi stared at him blankly, and suddenly Fushimi’s cheeks were ablaze. “It’s not like you’re sleeping with Yata, or with Mikoto?” Kusanagi asked.

Fushimi’s blushed deepened, and he managed a small glare. “Mikoto-san…” He elaborated reluctantly.

Kusanagi’s lips eased into a calm smile. “Do you think that will last?”

It was as if his whole body was burning with embarrassment. Of course, he had thought about, and he figured Mikoto had too. The farthest they’d gone was Mikoto feeling him over the clothes, but just those touches alone got him to climax.

“That’s none of your business…” Fushimi hissed.

“You’re right, it’s not.” Kusanagi held his hands up defensively, small smile still in place.

“What’s not your business?” Yata asked as he rejoined them, eyeing Kusanagi.

“Nothing.” He said simply, staring at Fushimi, before he returned to his work at the bar.

Yata looked at Fushimi questioningly, but he ignored the question too.

Kusanagi had been right.

It didn’t take long after that that they were having sex. Mikoto’s body always seemed to be burning, and the sex was just as hot and passionate. There didn’t seem to be a moment to breathe with him, even when it was slow or paced.

Fushimi’s heart beating wilding against his chest. His hands gripping at Mikoto’s broad shoulders, his back. Mikoto thrusting into him, deep and hard. Mikoto kissing his neck, sucking, biting. In the back of his mind, Fushimi knew he wanted to mark him, but he didn’t. Because of Yata.

Their bodies slick with sweat and fluids after. Fushimi’s body trembling from the pleasure and not fear. He’d been the only one left panting. Sometimes Mikoto would have a cigarette after, and Fushimi never said anything about how that bothered him. Then they would fall asleep, one of Mikoto’s arms wrapped lazily around Fushimi’s waist.

Heart fluttering, Fushimi thought that this was what he had been missing. This was it. They rarely spent time by themselves outside of these moments. They couldn’t, not with everyone always surrounding Mikoto, and Yata always around Fushimi.

On the nights that Fushimi spent in Mikoto’s bed he would sometimes wake up to him staring at him. Most of the times Mikoto was still asleep when he woke up, but on those few occasions… His hand on Fushimi’s hip, tracing his skin softly… Fushimi thought everything was fine. Yata questioned him those nights he didn’t come home, and Fushimi always made something up. Yata always believed his lies, until one day he didn’t and it all came to him.

The look on his face had been almost the same as the look he’d gotten when Fushimi told him he’d joined Scepter 4. _Almost_. Because of course, he couldn’t blame Mikoto, and it was as Fushimi had said before. It wasn’t like _they_ were together.

Fushimi was getting by, and he thought everything was fine. Those moments of irritation and fear always seemed to leave with his nights with Mikoto.

Then everything changed. He met Munakata. With him there were no doubts at all.

“Did you guys break up? Did Mikoto-san dump you? Is that what this is really about?” Yata argued when Fushimi took him into that alley to tell him he’d joined the Blue clan.

He didn’t mean to hurt him, Fushimi knew this, but the comment still hurt. Not everything was about fucking Mikoto. This was about _him_. This was about Fushimi not being happy in HOMRA. This was about him never fitting in. Why couldn’t Yata _see_ that?

Fushimi never once got a message from Mikoto, but he supposed it was for the best. It wasn’t like they were going out, not really. They had never labeled whatever it was that they had. Never once said out loud they were boyfriends. Never once actually had a date. And Fushimi found that it didn’t hurt. Maybe deep down Mikoto had known too, that Fushimi didn’t belong. That was that.

Dealing with Munakata was its own issue. He was insufferable and irritating in his own way, but Fushimi would never admit that he liked the attention. _A lot_. Being in Scepter 4 was different. The comradery, even if Fushimi tried to avoid it all costs, was the same for the most part. But everything else…work, _actual_ work, was something else. He kept busy and productive, and it felt _good_.

And everyone knew that he was Munakata’s favorite. It was painfully obvious, and that was one of the things that irritated Fushimi. His Captain wasn’t supposed to have favorites. Even if didn’t seem to bother the others, Fushimi wasn’t sure why all the attention affected him so.

To make matters worse, Munakata was aware of his actions, and he had no shame. In that regard, Fushimi sometimes wondered if Munakata was worse than Mikoto. At least Mikoto had been fair with his affections…for the most part. Even if he and Mikoto hadn’t slept together, sometimes Fushimi wondered about his feelings for Totsuka.

Maybe they both had their faults, but Munakata’s teasing and apparent praises and shows of affection got under Fushimi’s skin. Nothing happened for the first year he’d been in Scepter 4, except for the fact that Munakata’s looks made his heart jump and flutter wildly, and Fushimi had to ignore and push down all those feelings.

It was so different with Munakata. Never once did he feel out of place. And so, when Munakata kissed him, albeit out of the blue, it was so easy to give into him. It felt _right_. Heart hammering against his chest and trying to escape his ribs, he leaned into his Blue King, a hand going up and resting behind Munakata’s neck.

The kiss was chaste and soft, but the soft look in Munakata’s eyes and his tender smile was enough to make Fushimi feel undone, to want _more_. And so, he went after it. Leaning up and gripping the neatly trimmed ends of Munakata’s hair at the nape of his neck, he kissed his King again. It had startled Munakata, which Fushimi took pride and satisfaction in, but the Blue King recovered quickly, and he chuckled, returning the kiss with fervor.

The chuckle sent shivers shooting up and down Fushimi’s spine, and he felt weak. He leaned into Munakata, and he couldn’t get enough of the kiss, enough of Munakata’s taste. There was a hint of some type of tea in his mouth when Fushimi sucked on his tongue, but in his entirety, Munakata tasted _right._ Everything about this was right. Unlike with Mikoto, there were no doubts or second thoughts.

So, when, after some time, things eventually lead to the same place…

Fushimi lay panting heavily under Munakata’s body as their hips rocked together. His vision was blurry even if he still had his glasses on. They were fogging up, but the way Munakata was _looking_ at him made him melt even further. He was not just looking, he was actually _seeing_ him. And he knew that his Captain’s sight was terrible, but still, without his glasses, Munakata saw him.

His build was similar to Mikoto’s only his muscles were leaner, toned differently. Munakata left as many marks as he wanted, and though Fushimi got irritated by them and told him so, he secretly was happy and proud of them. Munakata only gave him a teasing smile or comment, but Fushimi knew that if it truly bothered him, Munakata would drop it.

It was cooler in Munakata’s chambers. Their bodies still hot but not burning. Fuck, even the sheets felt different. Smoother, cooler, silkier. Better. Fushimi had never become undone like this. He gripped Munakata’s hair, dug his nails into his shoulders and back, scratching like crazy.

He’d throw his head back as Munakata pounded deeper into him, his legs around Munakata’s waist instinctively wrapping around him tighter.

“More…more…there…right there…don’t stop…” The moans, when they were coherent, leaving his mouth were a broken record.

Trembling with the tremors of pleasure coursing through him, body tingling and getting weak, his legs becoming jelly, releasing Munakata’s waist and simply spreading for him, toes curled. Letting go of the grip on Munakata’s back that practically drew blood, to move his hands down to Munakata’s hips pushing him in deeper… Because, fuck…There… It felt so good.

This was his King.

The one who made him see white, and in that white he saw stars, the heavens. It was fucking right. When it was all over, and Munakata came inside him, there were caresses and small kisses. Munakata’s slender fingers ghosting over his sensitive skin, over his slim sides and waist, his thigh… It made Fushimi all over again, face blushing.

“You were amazing, Fushimi-kun…” He would whisper.

“Tsk…” Fushimi clicked his tongue softly and nestled into his King’s chest, into his arms. Munakata had done all the work, and yet he still said these things… Even when Fushimi rode him it felt like Munakata was doing everything. “You were too…”

Munakata wrapped him in his arms closely, and Fushimi would never protest this. This was his home, and he wondered briefly if this was what Yata felt when he was with Mikoto. This serenity, safety, certainty…everything he had not felt with the Red King but now did feel with Munakata.

Fushimi rested his head against his Captain’s firm chest, and he listened to his heartbeat slowing down. His own still fluttering. They were both drifting off to sleep together, and Fushimi loved these moments and cherished them. He wished he could enjoy them longer…forever. This King’s breathing indicated he’d succumb to slumber, and Fushimi followed into that sweet darkness soon after.

It was a strange feeling, to belong. Fushimi had never felt it before. He’d had it briefly with Yata, before they’d joined HOMRA. But now he had it again, and this time he knew it wasn’t going to be short lived. He knew his Captain wouldn’t give him up. Each of those looks…those smiles that made his heart jump and those damned butterflies appear in his stomach.

And unlike the unclarity with Mikoto, Fushimi knew the point when they started going out. Every single time Munakata wanted to see him outside of work. All their dinners and lunches and breakfasts and coffee breaks and anything and everything in between. Seeing Munakata’s apartment outside of Scepter 4. It had been so painfully obvious they were going out, and much to Fushimi’s dismay, everyone at work knew too even if no one said so. Their happiness and shared times together must have shown, even on Fushimi’s own face. It was irritating…but he was happy. He was home.

Fushimi knew this was where he belonged all along. This was his King.


End file.
